Stephen King - Insomnia

Ralph considered this, then nodded. He opened his door and swung one foot out. “That’s a good point. And Helen’ll be there.

She might even bring Nat. Maybe, for little Short-Time farts like us, that’s enough.”

And maybe, he thought, I want a rematch with Doc #3.

Oh, Ralph, Carolyn mourned. Clint Eastwood? Again?

No, not Clint Eastwood. Not Sylvester Stallone or Arnold Schwarzenegger, either. Not even John Wayne. He was no big action-hero or movie-star; he was just plain old Ralph Roberts from Harris Avenue. That didn’t make the grudge he bore the doc with the rusty scalpel any less real, however. And now that grudge was a lot bigger than just a stray dog and the retired history teacher who had lived downstairs for the last ten years or so. Ralph kept thinking of the parlor at High Ridge, and the women propped against the wall below the poster of Susan Day. It wasn’t upon Merrilee’s pregnant belly which the eye in his mind kept focusing but Gretchen Tillbury’s hair-her beautiful blonde hair that had been mostly burned off by the close-range rifle-shot that had taken her life. Charlie Pickering had pulled the trigger, and maybe Ed Deepneau had put the gun in his hands, but it was Atropos Ralph blamed, Atropos the jumprope-thief, Atropos the hat-thief, Atropos the comb-thief.

Atropos the earring-thief.

“Come on, Lois,” he said. “Let’s-” But she put her hand on his arm and shook her head. “Not just yet-get back in here and shut the door.”

He looked at her carefully, then did what she said. She paused, gathering her thoughts, and when she spoke, she looked directly at Old Dor.

“I still don’t understand why we were sent out to High Ridge,”

she said. “They never even came right out and said that was what we were supposed to do, but we know-don’t we, Ralph?-that that was what they wanted from us. And I want to understand. if we’re supposed to be here, why did we have to go out there? I mean, we saved some lives, and I’m glad, but I think Ralph’s right-a few lives don’t mean much to the people running this show.”

Silence for a moment, and then Dorrance said, “Did Clotho and Lachesis really strike you as all-wise and all-knowing, Lois?”

“Well… they were smart, but I guess they weren’t exactly geniuses,” she said after a moment’s thought. “At one point they called themselves working joes who were a long way down the ladder from the boardroom executives who actually made the decisions.”

Old Dor was nodding and smiling. “Clotho and Lachesis are almost Short-Timers themselves, in the big scheme of things. they have their own fears and mental blindspots. They are also capable of making bad decisions… but in the end, that doesn’t matter, because they also serve the Purpose. And ka-tet.”

“They thought we’d lose if we went head-to-head with Atropos, didn’t they?” Ralph asked. “That’s why they talked themselves into believing we could accomplish what they wanted by using the buck door… the back door being High Ridge.”

“Yes,” Dor said. “That’s it.”

“Great,” Ralph said. “I love a vote of confidence. Especiillo when-”

“No,” Dor said. “That’s not it.” Ralph and Lois exchanged a bewildered glance. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s both things at the same time. That’s very often the way things are within the Purpose. You see… well…” He sighed.

“I hate all these questions. I hardly ever answer questions, did I tell you that?”

“Yes,” Lois said. “You did.”

“Yes. And now, bingo! All these questions. Nasty! And useless!” Ralph looked at Lois, and she looked back at him. Neither of them made any move to get out. Dor heaved a sigh. “All right… but this is the last thing I’m going to say, so pay attention. Clotho and Lachesis may have sent you to High Ridge for the wrong reasons, but the Purpose sent you there for the right ones. You fulfilled your task there.”

“By saving the women,” Lois said. But Dorrance was shaking his head. “Then what did we do?” she nearly shouted. “What? Don’t we have a right to know what part of the goshdamned Purpose we fulfilled?”

“No,” Dorrance said. “At least not yet. Because you have to do it again.”

“This is crazy,” Ralph said. “It isn’t, though,” Dorrance replied. ’He was holding for Love tightly against his chest now, bending it back and forth and looking at Ralph earnestly. “Random is crazy. Purpose is sane.” All right, Ralph thought, what did we do at High Ridge besides save the people in the cellar? And John Leydecker, Of course-I think Pickering might have killed him as well as Chris Nell if I hadn’t intervened. Could it be something to do with Leydecker?

He supposed it could, but it didn’t feel right.

“Dorrance,” he said, “can’t you please give us a little more information? I mean-”

“No,” Old Dor said, not unkindly. “No more questions, no more time.

We’ll have a good meal together after this is over… if we’re still around, that is.”

“You really know how to cheer a fellow up, Dor.” Ralph opened his door. Lois did the same, and they both stepped out into the parking lot. He bent down and looked at Joe Wyzer. “Is there anything else?

Anything you can think of?”

“No, I don’t think-” Dor leaned forward and whispered in his ear.

Joe listened, frowning.

“Well?” Ralph asked when Dorrance sat back. “What did he say?”

“He said not to forget my comb,” Joe said. “I don’t have the slightest idea what he’s talking about, but what else is new?”

“That’s okay,” Ralph said, and smiled a little. “It’s one of the few things I do understand. Come on, Lois-let’s check out the crowd.

Mingle a little.”

Halfway across the parking lot, she elbowed him so hard in the side that Ralph staggered. “Look!” she whispered. “Right over there!

Isn’t that Connie Chung?”

Ralph looked. Yes; the woman in the beige coat standing between two techs with the CBS logo on their ’jackets was almost certainly Connie Chung. He had admired her pretty, intelligent face and pleasant smile over too many evening meals to have much doubt about it.

“Either her or her twin sister,” he said.

Lois seemed to have forgotten all about Old Dor and High Fidge and the bald docs; in that moment she was once more the woman Bill McGovern had liked to call “Our Lois.”

“I’ll be darned!

What’s she doing here?”

“Well,” Ralph began, and then covered his mouth to hide a jawcracking yawn, “I guess what’s going on in Derry is national news now. She must be here to do a live segment in front of the Civic Center for tonight’s news. In any case-” Suddenly, with no warning at all, the auras swam back. Ralph gasped.

“Jesus! Lois, are you seeing this?”

But he didn’t think she was. If she had been, Ralph didn’t think Connie Chung would have rated even an honorable mention on Lois’s attention-roster. This was horrible almost beyond conceiving, and for the first time Ralph fully realized that even the bright world of auras had its dark side, one that would make an ordinary person fall on his knees and thank God for his reduced perceptions.

And this isn’t even stepping up the ladder, he thought. At least, I don’t think it is. I’m only looking at that wider world, like a man looking through a window. I’m not actually in it.

Nor did he want to be in it. just looking at something like this was almost enough to make you wish you were blind.

Lois was frowning at him. “What, the colors? No. Should I try to? Is there something wrong with them?”

He tried to answer and couldn’t. A moment later he felt her hand seize his arm in a painful pincers grip above the elbow and knew that no explanation was necessary. For better or worse, Lois was now seeing for herself.